Red Eyes
by theslowblitz
Summary: Set in the Sengoku period. Shizuru is the sole heir to the powerful Fujino family. She might also be a demon. Natsuki is a girl of unknown origin serving the family. What is her purpose, and what will happen when she leaves?
1. Chapter 1

Two years ago, the love of my life left my life.

I had failed to follow her.

I rapped on the wooden door firmly, but not too strongly. It was strange; for all the years I had been brought up as a lady, I had never once been taught the proper way to knock a door. Was I supposed to knock at a certain rhythm, to signal who I was? Was I supposed to knock again, if the door was not answered, or would that be too impolite?

My wonderings were cut off when a small woman peeked out from behind the door. Her eyes soon fixed upon mine. I spoke softly, breaking eye contact with a slight bow.

"I'm sorry madam, but may I seek shelter from the rain?"

She looked away, no doubt not wanting to bear a stranger. Perhaps she also sensed something strange about me. She would not have been wrong.

I gave her no time to develop those thoughts, and smoothly motioned my hand to a pouch hanging at my waist. I disliked reducing her hospitality to mere money, but I doubted she would have let me in otherwise.

"I need only stay a night."

The promise of money worked. The woman opened her home to me, and I entered. I pretended not to notice the little shrine in the corner of the hut, as I sat at a small table. A girl sat some distance away, staring at me with her wide eyes. When I looked at her, she quickly turned away.

The woman offered me a cup of hot water, and we sat in silence as the raindrops fell nosily outside.

"How is your husband?" I asked politely.

The woman gestured her head to the little shrine in the corner of the room. I nodded slightly. I had already known, having asked the villagers.

"He must have been a good man."

The woman smiled, but said nothing more.

"Thank you for your hospitality," I said, reaching for my purse.

"It is not necessary," she said, gesturing for me to stop. "You have been a great guest."

"I insist. It would not do for me to impose on you." I held out my hand, so that it would be impolite for her to not take my money. She would not give in easily however, and we continued the tedious exchange for a while longer. When she finally accepted my money, she startled at the sum.

"I cannot possibly…"

"It is an apology," I insisted, indicating to the shrine, "on behalf of her."

Her features narrowed. She clenched the money tightly, then threw it at the ground.

"She killed my husband!" she shouted. I saw her daughter flinch in the background.

"I know."

And I walked away.

* * *

Why did I stay at that house? I did not learn anything about Natsuki, nor did I expect to.

Was I hoping that I could justify her actions? Was I hoping to justify _my_ actions?

If so, I had failed.

* * *

It had also been raining the day I first heard of her. I had been reading, but the back and forth of servants outside my room caught my attention. They told me that a girl had just collapsed outside the house, and that my father had ordered her brought in to the servants' quarters.

I was surprised; my father was not the sort to care about street children, whatever their plight. I hid my surprise, but the servant seemed to understand. The girl had been standing in the rain for the three days, she told me. For those three days, the girl had never moved.

I was intrigued, but returned to reading. I was the heir to the Fujino family, not the market gossip. I would have to learn more about the girl later.

"The second son of the Fukuoka family is interested in you," said my father with an easy-going smile. He never ceased to delight in the endless stream of suitors that sought my hand.

"He happens to be in town this week, so I have arranged a meeting for the boy."

"I look forward to meeting him," I said coyly. My father laughed. He knew what the meeting would come to.

It was a tradition in our family. Those who wished to marry into the family had to prove themselves worthy of inheriting the house and the dojo. The test was almost always a duel.

I had never lost.

* * *

In between listening to my father talk about running the city, commenting, and eating dinner I did not have the opportunity to ask about the collapsed girl. Curiosity bit at me as I retreated to my room.

I entertained the thought of visiting the servants' quarters. The fuss having died down, it seemed appropriate to visit the girl and give a few words of concern. Street child or not, she was still a guest of the house.

Having made up my mind, I walked to the quarters. I found a girl my age lying unconscious on a futon, her body covered by a think blanket. Her face was pale and thin, but beautiful. Otsune was sitting beside the girl, replacing the damp cloth on her head.

"How is the girl?"

"She has a fierce fever, and she has not fed for several days, but she is strong. She will be fine."

I nodded, my eyes lingering on the girl's fine features. "What is father's plan for her?"

"The girl is to stay as a servant for a year. After that, if the master deems her worthy, he will accept her to the dojo."

"Was that her request?"

Otsune nodded. "She did not say why, however."

"I see. Take care of her then." My eyes flickered to Otsune, then back to the girl. They lingered for a moment longer before I turned to leave.

* * *

The younger Fukuoka, his father, as well as my father and several of his associates were idly chatting in the dining room when I entered. Two servants followed behind me, one carrying a tray of artfully crafted tea bowls, the other carrying a pot of freshly brewed tea.

I carefully laid down the tea bowls in front of each guest, giving them time to admire and praise the craft. To show my father's hospitality, I laid the tea bowl before him last. Next, I poured the tea, again giving the guests time to appreciate the art.

I noticed the younger Fukuoka constantly glancing my way. It was a sign of poor self-control, my father would have said, but if he noticed, he made no mention of it.

"The stories I have heard are true; your daughter is the most beautiful girl in Kyoto!"

My father motioned otherwise. "She is a most ordinary girl, I assure you."

"Kyoto? She may be the most beautiful girl in Nippon!"

I smiled slightly. It was not my place to say anything, or respond with anything more.

"What do you think, Hiroshi?" goaded one of my father's associates.

The boy did his best to look unaffected. "I think she is beautiful."

"Would you be willing to fight for her?" asked the same associate. The mischievous smile on his face betrayed his intentions. The other guests listened with interest.

"I would."

"Then, would you be willing to fight against her?"

"I would."

He looked confident as he said this. He must have known of our family tradition. Everyone looked to me. Only my father seemed undisturbed as he sipped his tea.

"I am happy to accept your challenge," I said softly, with a slight bow.

* * *

The men continued their lunch after I left the room. In that time, the servants freed me from my formal kimono, and dressed me in a shorter kimono more suited for fighting. Once dressed, I walked to the dojo, as the fresh smell of rain massaged my senses.

There, I found the girl from the street polishing the floor. It was the first time I had seen her awake and well. I dismissed the servants who had accompanied me, then asked the girl to sit with me at the edge of the veranda. She stared at me for a moment, before sitting beside me at a respectable distance.

"How are you feeling?"

The girl paused to consider her words. "I feel much better, thanks to your father."

"I see."

A short silence fell as I considered how to broach the topic I was most curious about.

"I heard you stood in the rain for three days," I said, chuckling slightly.

The girl turned away. "It did not feel as long."

"Not many people would have been able to do that. Not any of our trainees. Not even me."

She looked back at me, and as quickly shifted her gaze to avoid my mine.

"What I am really interested in is why you were so determined."

Her back stiffened. I watched her as she squirmed, torn between telling some unpleasant truth, and potentially upsetting her host.

"I'm sorry, I cannot say."

"I see," I said disappointedly. She squirmed some more. "You may return to your work."

* * *

My father and his guests sat at the side of the dojo in respectful silence, while the boy and I exchanged bows. We then drew blunted swords and edged towards each other. As we neared, the boy lunged. I easily stepped aside and stabbed his right shoulder joint.

He hurriedly fell back, but I followed through, slashing at him continuously as he weakly parried. When he had fallen into the pattern of parrying, I switched to a low slash at his leg. If it had been a real battle, he would have lost, having been injured in both his dominant shoulder and leg.

I withdrew, as the boy gaped in shock. My father started clapping, and his associates clapped along, including the elder Fukuoka. The boy slumped to his father's side, his eyes fixed upon the ground. He ceased sending letters that day on.

* * *

"Even after you won, you did not lower your sword," mumbled the girl as she folded my futon.

I looked at her with a slight smile. "Did I?"

The girl was taken aback and stared at me for a moment.

"It must have been my imagination," she said unconvincingly.

* * *

I woke up in the middle of the night chilled to the bone. I turned over, trying to ignore the cold. It was a futile effort. I soon tossed aside my blanket and felt around for a candle and match. The candle lit, I made my way to the garden, and sat on a bench by the pond.

It was still cold, colder than in the house, but it was more tolerable when I was not trying to sleep. I listened silently to the buzz of insects and the croaks of frogs. There was another sound, a familiar sound, but one I could not place. I tuned in to that strange, repetitive sound, trying to pick out its source.

It was from the dojo.

I had an immediate suspicion about what was going on.

The door to the dojo was closed, but the swish of a sword gave her away. From the sound alone, I could tell her she put too much force into her strokes. I hovered by the door, considering my approach. Should I chastise the girl, for breaking my father's rules? Should I secretly condone her actions by not making a mention of them?

I was tempted to confuse her, to enter and correct her stance and stroke as though that were the most natural thing to do.

I turned from the door and sat on the veranda. As she trained, I stared off into the night.

How long had it been since I trained with such determination?

I sat with her for a while before returning to my room. I would let her continue at least one night longer.

* * *

The girl stood unnaturally stiff for a moment, before breaking into squirms. If she suspected I knew of her night time practice, she was not hiding her suspicion very well.

"I would like your company while I walk," I said. She relaxed, then stiffened up again. I stifled a smile at her attempts to hide her emotions.

"That's..."

"Ara, am I being rejected?"

"No," she said quickly. She then mumbled something under her breath.

I paused before speaking again, as I pieced together her words.

"You always walk alone," she had said.

I pretended not to have heard.

* * *

"I have found a suitable man for you," said my father, as the servants laid the table. "He is from the Saito family. I will be meeting his father next week, and I would like you to follow. I will not force you, of course, but it is time to be serious about finding a suitor."

My mother nodded.

"I look forward to meeting him," I said with a slight smile. My father nodded in approval.

"You will like him. He is skilled in the arts as well as swordsmanship…"

* * *

I stared at the waning flame of the candle, as I mulled over my father's words. The thought of marriage, of leaving the familiar confines of my house discomforted me, but I was no longer a child.

There was a familiar rapping on the door. It was too loud, too rude to be of any other servant but her. I called her in, and she entered, holding a new candle.

"Even after I won, I did not lower my sword; that was what you said the other day."

The girl stopped in her tracks, unsure of my intentions, but nodded.

"In real battles, there is no line between victory and defeat. Mistake - or treachery - can easily change the roles of victor and defeated."

I paused.

"At least, that was what my father told me."

I picked up the book on the table and returned to reading. After a moment of stunned silence, she continued changing the candles. I glanced at the girl as she leaned over the table and replaced the candle stub. When she suddenly glanced back at me, I realised how long I had been looking at her.

I smiled slightly, then turned back to my book, as though nothing strange had happened.

Beneath my unfazed facade, my heart leapt in my chest.

* * *

She was asleep, alone in a large room. I was standing beside her, staring at her sleeping body. She was beautiful, from her silky blue hair to her fine features, to her lean, muscled body.

I slid off my kimono and knelt beside her, holding her face in my hand.

I loved her. I lusted for her. I would have her.

_Take her. _

I startled from my sleep. It was back. It had been a long time since I heard it last, but it was back.

_Take her_, it said, as horror spread through my body. I scrambled from the futon and sat at the table. I stood up almost immediately after from nervous energy.

_She is by the pond._

_I am stronger _now, I said to the demon. I could resist. I would resist, I told myself, as my spirit faltered.

It grinned.

I found myself walking to the pond. It was only to prove the demon wrong. Natsuki was not there, she had no reason to be there; yet, there she was. The demon was right.

It was always right.

_Take her._

I reached out to her, ready to grab her, when she turned around. We startled each other, and we both stepped back.

"Shizuru-sama?" she said in confusion. She started to step towards me.

"I am fine," I said, my hand held in front of me. I hoped the darkness hid my tortured expression. "I only need some space."

Natsuki nodded. I avoided her eyes as I backed away from her.

That pained me the most.

* * *

_You will succumb to your desires._

_I will not_, I insisted.

It laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all your comments. I appreciate them a lot.

I'll try to make things clearer as to who is speaking, and when flashbacks are happening. However, I feel that too much description would break the flow of Shizuru's narration. I hope you understand.

* * *

I was at a fence along a cliff, trying to look down at an apple orchard. The top of the fence was slightly taller than me, and I started to tiptoe.

Then I remembered. _Good girls did not tiptoe_, my mother had told me.

I dropped back to my feet, and looked in father's direction. He was still talking to his friends. I turned back to the fence, pressing my feet firmly to the ground. I strained again to gaze at the orchard.

There, rows of trees stretched past the horizon and painted the field a lush green. Spots of red dotted the green, and the spaces were filled with shadow that danced pleasingly in the wind.

_It is all yours._

I hummed to that suggestion.

Someone spoke in the background, though I was not listening

"Shizuru-sama," Otsune repeated. I turned from the orchard to the old servant, and saw my father and his friends walking away.

"It is time to leave."

I nodded.

That night, I ate the sweetest apples I had ever tasted.

* * *

I was shaken from my thoughts by my mother. Her hand withdrew from my arm and she regained some composure. Still, her façade had broken, showing the frightened women beneath. I sympathised with her.

My father had left this morning without a word. The only hints as to his reason were the letters he had been reading with increasing distress, but would not reveal.

I, on the other hand, had not been myself for many days.

My mother started to speak, but stopped.

"I am always here for you," she finally murmured.

I smiled slightly. "Thank you, mother."

I considered how to console her. Silence soon fell in the dining room.

The next day, my first uncle invited himself to our house, bearing a letter from my father. He was to be the man of the house while my father was away, the letter said. It was the first notice I had of my father's plans. There was still no word as to why he had left.

My mother folded the letter and returned it to my uncle.

"I understand," she said, her tone even.

"There is more we must discuss," my uncle said urgently. He glanced at me though the corners of his eyes. "However, it is best for children not to hear."

"That would be wise," my mother said.

I nodded and stood up. "I will be in my room."

Neither of them looked at me while I walked away, though I saw a smirk play on my uncle's face.

I closed the door with more force than I had intended. I clenched my fists for a moment before releasing it with a sigh.

I would not let my uncle win. I would not let it win.

* * *

I was sitting in a room with my mother. Outside, my father and first uncle were arguing over me, as I understood. Though I did not know what they were arguing about, I had my suspicions. Several days ago, a priest had read my palms, wearing a grimace throughout.

Since then, there had been a line of priests outside my door. Some of them looked at me and sung only praise. I was a child of the gods, they said. I was destined for great things, they said. My father tipped them generously. Other priests were not as pleasant. Them, my father dismissed in a hurry.

"…drag down the family name…"

Their argument was getting heated. I looked to my mother uncomfortably. She only shook her head.

"…does not deserve…temple…"

That was my father, defending me. I hoped he won. I did not like the idea of becoming a nun.

_You know, you don't have to take this_, she said.

_What should I do?_

She did not reply me, to my disappointment. I contented myself to staring at the table.

My mother was doing the same.

* * *

Natsuki brought in my dinner into my room that night. It had been my uncle's order, she said, looking away.

Of course.

At least I could thank him for sending Natsuki. While she looked away, I let my eyes wander.

No, that was not what I wanted, I reminded myself, as I clamped one hand across another arm.

"Thank you," I said, many moments too slow. She nodded, then stood there, shifting her feet. She was waiting for me to dismiss her. I smiled inside, though I could not show it.

"Natsuki-" I began, but she spoke first.

"You saw me the other day," she said. She looked aside, and shifted her feet some more.

"Thank you," she finally said, before half-running out of the room.

I was left with a confused, mouth half-open smile.

* * *

"The master wants you to remain in your room," said Kenji. He too looked away.

"I understand," I said, as I stepped back into the house.

"I'm really sorry."

"It is no matter," I said with a slight smile.

The boy smiled back with relief.

* * *

_Burn his house. He would have to return_, it suggested.

Magnificent flames flashed in my mind. I was standing at its edge, watching it leap pillar to pillar, eating everything in its path. Bits of burning wood dropped to the floor as buildings collapsed and the scent of ash filled my lungs.

_No_, I insisted, shaking my head. My thumb scuffed the edge of my book, frustrating me further.

_It is what you want_, it said enticingly.

_No, it is what you want._

It looked at me knowingly.

I wanted to leave, to storm from my room and from it, but I could not, thanks to my uncle. If it burnt his house down, he only had himself to blame.

No, that was how it wanted me to think. It was playing with me, tempting me with those thoughts. I was not a low-life. I was the daughter of the Fujino family. I would win.

I turned to thoughts of Natsuki, to distract me from the demon. I thought of her thanks, and her embarrassed escape. It made me smile again.

I wanted to hold her, to hug her, to serenade her with song and poetry. It would not corrupt me.

_It is what you want_, it repeated. My hand smashed through the side of the table. Splinters of wood scattered on the floor. I looked at my hand in disgust.

_Would she have done that? _it mocked.

I did not admit the truth.

* * *

I stared at the books that were placed at the side of the table. They stared back at me in silence. I pulled out one book, then placed it back into the row. My fingers played along the top of the table.

I stood up and walked to the shoji. I placed my hand on the screen, suppressing my urge to tear through the paper. I walked back to the table and sat down.

I would meditate, I decided, so I stood up again and sat on the floor. No sooner than I had sat down, I had to stand again. I breathed deeply to sooth my frustration, but it did not sooth the itch in my legs.

I walked to the table and pulled out a book…

* * *

Please stay, I wanted to beg of her, as she turned her back to me. I could only watch, tortured, as the shoji slid shut. The food was cold comfort.

I pressed my fists against the table. My teeth were clenched. I needed to cry, but I could not. I had trained all the tears away.

* * *

It came like hunger, in fits and starts. Sometimes, there was nothing to do but to sit and wait out the hours in agony. Sometimes, I barely felt myself wasting away. The only times I felt alive was when she attended to me.

They made the demon's calls all the stronger.

* * *

Several days into my imprisonment, my father sent me a letter. According to the servant, the mother had pushed my uncle into passing it to me. I imagined him agreeing with a scowl. I wanted to smack that scowl off his face.

The letter itself said nothing new. He was busy with politics. It was too uninteresting to mention in detail. He was in good health and spirits.

It seemed secrecy ran in families.

I picked up my pen and started to write a reply:

'I am thankful for your good health.

Mother and I have been missing you. Uncle has been good to us, but it is not the same without you.

I hope your business is resolved soon. Then, we may eat seafood nabe together with uncle.

There is no need to worry about us. Mother and I are in good health, and uncle has been managing the house well. Mother has finally finished her painting. She tells me we should hang it up in the entrance room.

As for me, I have finished reading The Snow Lady for the fifth time. The rain makes for good reading, and book is every bit as interesting as when I had first read it.'

I stopped my pen for a moment and played with it.

'There has also been a demon possessing me since I was young. It tells me to rape, to break, to burn. It seems uncle was right after all.'

I put down my pen and laughed. Then I laughed some more.

When I stopped, I crumpled the letter with a scowl. Then I laughed some more.

The thought of burning buildings was a happy one.

Best of all, it was my thought.

* * *

There was no one in the house to put out the flames. Whispered threats in the night saw to that. In hindsight, threats would have been enough. But there was no fun in that.

Yes, there was something wrong with me.

The wrongness made the roaring flames and churning winds all the more magnificent.

* * *

_You won._

The norimono jumped as it crossed a bump in the road. My father's eyes were closed, though I could not imagine how he slept in the crammed cabin.

_Stealing is wrong. _

_Who said so?_

I paused to think. _Mother and father_, I said unsurely.

_Who are they to say?_

I could not reply.

_It is all yours_, it repeated, with a wide grin.

The orchard opened up before me, and the fresh scent of fruit filled the air.

_All you need to do is to take it._


	3. Chapter 3

Author's notes:

If you have been paying attention, you would have realised some subtle editing (as well as the addition of entire passages) after the chapter is published. I do to improve characterisation and pacing, for the best story possible. It does not affect the overall plot, so can ignore the changes if you want to.

Ideally, I would have finished the editing et. al. before publishing the chapter, but if I did that, I would probably never publish anything, haha.

* * *

She turned to me when I slid open the shoji. Her green eyes followed mine as I stepped in, my breath hastening.

I pressed her against the wooden frame, and held her cold hands in mine. My face hovered in front of hers, and warm breaths washed over me as I took in her scent. My heart was hammering; only the sight of her stopped me from leaning into her inviting lips.

"I-"

* * *

The sun shone brightly from behind wispy clouds. The koi swam contentedly as the gentle breeze sent shimmering ripples across the pond. Butterflies somersaulted from leaf to leaf.

I smiled. There was nothing that could spoil my day.

I entered the dojo alone and waited in the changing room. Natsuki entered soon after. She dressed me in my fighting kimono; each accidental touch from her cold hands sent trembles through my body. I hoped she did not notice. It would have made her wary.

"You were training the other day," I said suddenly, as she was tying my obi. Her fingers stopped for a moment.

"I do not understand."

She was a terrible actor.

"Do you not want to train?" I teased.

This time she looked up at me, her expression inscrutable. I leaned in slightly and slid my hand across her arm.

"My father will not return for a few weeks. No one will know."

She gulped, and nodded.

* * *

_Disarm, then tempt._

That was what my mother had taught me. It seemed the only useful thing she had taught me.

* * *

We were sitting at a stone table, hidden between the dojo and the pond. It was where my father loved to lecture before he began his lessons.

"There are many skilled swordsmen, yet few master swordsmen," I said, recounting my father words. "Why is this?"

Natsuki seemed to barely give the question a thought before shaking her head.

"Nature."

I paused to let her contemplate our surroundings. Behind us, the pond sprawled across the length of the garden, teeming with life. The garden sprawled even further, covering the entire entrance of the estate. Around us, trees loomed, standing taller than even the dojo, their height emphasised by the smallness of the table.

"Nature?" she asked, sounding incredulous.

I smiled.

"I suppose skill is enough for now."

* * *

We returned to the dojo, where she helped herself to a training sword.

"You have to change too, you know."

She seemed surprised by the suggestion. I wondered if she had trained in the same outfit she kept the house in. It was a slightly disturbing thought, but also slightly amusing, if only because the image suited like her.

"The kimono you're wearing is too thick for training."

The real reason was to discard the self, but I doubted that mattered to her.

With some reluctance, she put down the sword and went to the changing room. As I considered whether to follow her, the shoji shut. I suppressed a slight frown as I waited for her to change.

When she had changed, I started training, running through the proper stances and swings, and slowly building up to more advanced techniques. I finished by sliding the training sword along my waist as though I were sheathing it.

Then I had her exercise in the hall.

It was meant to amuse me, to play with her as she rejected the simple task. Instead, she followed without complaint.

I fell even further for her.

* * *

I had Kenji take a pot of tea to the dojo, though I did not let him in. I told him I had left my clothes on the floor of the hall. The poor boy stiffened, and hurriedly returned to the house. When his footsteps had trailed off, Natsuki stepped out.

I sat myself on the veranda and patted the space next to me.

"Sit."

She sat some distance from me, with a loud thump; she had trained until she could barely lift the sword. Her slightly muscled body shined with sweat.

"Ara, how am I supposed to pour the tea if you are sitting there?"

She started speaking, but I ignored her reply.

"It is part of the training," I added.

She reluctantly moved herself next to me.

"Our school emphasises the natural order," I said, as the koi swam towards us. "It is why my father had the estate built this way."

"Is that also why you were treated as you were?"

I opened and shut my mouth.

We did not speak for the rest of the day.

* * *

The next day, we changed together, though our backs faced each other.

"I can take care of myself," I had told her. She seemed completely unaffected by my declaration.

While she changed, I turned to look. I did not see much, however. Each time she so much as tilted her head, I turned to the wall in front of me.

"Why did you choose this school?" I asked.

"Someone told me it was the strongest in Kyoto."

"So, why…?"

She turned around and shook her head.

* * *

Each time we trained, I edged towards her. Becoming physically close was even easier once we were past exercise. I could hold her close to me, without excuse, as I corrected her form.

Today, I was so close that I could feel her heart beating in synchrony with mine.

* * *

The moment I shut the shoji in my room, I slumped. My body was weak, and my legs numb from pushing them nervously on the floor. I stumbled to the table for support.

I remembered her heartbeat, her stiffness in my arms. She was afraid of me.

I remembered the scent of her hair, the feeling of warmth from her arms. I did not want to let go of her.

_This is not right._

_There is no one to stop you_, it said.

I dreamt of touching her bare body, of caressing her soft skin. I dreamt of our lips pressing together as our tongues touched, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

_She loves you_, it said. _Why else would she want to know so much about you?_

She had been nervous, nothing more.

We touched some more in the sweet dream.

* * *

Time passed as we trained together, and soon my father was to return home. It was the day before he returned that, when I waiting for Natsuki in the dojo, I found a note in the changing room.

She was waiting for me in my room, the note said.

I crumpled the cloth in my hand and returned to my room. I felt each tentative step that I took, each little gulp I made as I did.

When I entered, she was standing by my table. She had removed her obi, and her kimono was hanging loosely on her lean frame. I felt my lower half clench.

"Why…?" She looked away.

I found myself moving unthinkingly towards her.

She slowly stepped back, until I had her pressed against a wooden frame. I slipped my hand into hers, and her cold hands sent shivers up my back. She said something, though I barely heard her through my lust-driven daze. I would have lunged at her lips if I had not been bound by her beauty.

"There is someone I must fight."

_Disarm, then tempt_.

I lingered before her, then stumbled back. I stared, mouth gaping, before my twisted in agony. It was disgraceful.

She looked away, like she always did. She wore a slight frown, and her arms were crossed around her waist. Even now, she still looked absolutely alluring. My eyes traced her half-bare body, and my lower half clenched again.

It was my turn to look away.

"I will help you," I muttered.

"Thank you," she said softly.

The floor seemed endlessly fascinating to me as I listened to ruffling of cloth, the short, hurried steps and the shutting of the shoji with a little too much force.


	4. Chapter 4

There was nothing but darkness down the alley, save for a spot of light at the end of the wall where a single guard stood. He did not see me, but I saw him clearly. He stood out from the grey surroundings, his skin burning red to my eyes. But he was not my target.

I leapt over the stone wall, landing softly on the other side. Here, another guard patrolled. I walked up to him, then behind him, becoming closer with each silent step. I held his shoulder. He nearly leapt from his skin.

I leaned into him and whispered, in a tongue that was not my own.

He bolted to the gates, tripping himself along the way.

* * *

The house was silent, so silent that a dropped pin would have echoed.

I smashed a vase upon the floor.

A servant soon woke, and I pressed myself against the wall as she walked past me. She stopped when she saw the broken vase. Her skin turned from red to pale blue.

I stepped behind her and spoke.

She fled screaming.

* * *

One by one, they fled, eleven in total. There had been twelve open futons in the servant's quarters.

I pushed the thought aside and made my way to my master room.

* * *

He would wake, sweat-soaked, from his worst nightmare.

For now, however, he was living in it.

He was standing in a room, backed by many more of his men. The last shogun stood in the same room, with only a sword. The soldiers charged, only to be ruthlessly cut down.

The smirk fled from my uncle's face. He haphazardly drew his own sword, but it was thrown from his hands in a sword stroke.

"My brother, he sent me," he said, almost begging, as the sword slid into his chest. "He is the one you want."

There were more stabs, more pain. He crumpled to the floor in spasms, barely breathing.

The face of the shogun turned to my father's. The shogun lifted his sword.

* * *

My uncle startled from the nightmare, and scanned the room in near panic. The darkness soothed him, however. The blue of his skin slowly returned to red. His relief would not last long.

He turned to his side, and patted the futon beside him. It took him a while to realise that it was flat. He leapt to his feet, and ran for his sword.

"Yukari?" he shouted. "Yukari!"

He ran to the next room, then to the next, then to the next. I followed him slowly, dragging my sword behind me. The blade whined as it carved up the floor.

He threw open the shoji to the servant's quarters, but, finding no one, he finally turned to me.

"Who are you? What do you want?" He spoke in a menacing tone, and had raised his sword, though his shaking betrayed him.

I smiled.

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that, uncle."

"You!" he shouted, his contemptuous tone gaining strength. "I knew there was something wrong with you!"

"I suppose there is."

I spoke some words in the other tongue. He, too, fled as his feet could take him. He would wake up far from his house, with no memory of the event. He would only know, when he turned, that his house had been burnt into a charred rock.

* * *

When my father returned home, he walked with firm gait, but the deep lines in his face gave his situation away. Several sullen-faced men followed my father. Having greeted them, I then started towards the tea room.

"Shizuru."

I turned towards my father. The others subtly turned towards us.

"Sit with us."

I noticed, as I sat in the dining room, that many of my father's associates were missing.

Those who were missing had been tied to my first uncle.

There was a deeper meaning to my father's request, I realised.

* * *

'He had been planning a coup,' read the slip of paper. 'The fire revealed my mole.'

'He is no longer a threat. Tell others that he has retreated to his summer home, including mother.'

At the end of the message, a dot of ink suggested something left unsaid.

I burnt the slip of paper over the candle.

* * *

Fifteen men sat around the table, with my father at the head of the table, and me to his right. A young man I had never met before sat at the side of the table. My mother brought in the tea. It was strange, seeing her set the tea instead of myself.

We sat about, appreciating the tea, until my mother bowed and left. The discussion started almost as soon as the shoji slid shut.

"My moles suggest that there are at least a thousand of his men in the city."

"We are more than a match, then."

"It is safer to search for the leaders first. Once they are captured, the common soldiers will disperse."

"We do not have the time to search the whole Kyoto! Do you think their armies will wait patiently outside our gates while we deal with our problems?"

I sat silently and sipped the tea, taking in their arguments. From what I heard, the Sanahada had defeated their neighbours, and were attacking the Saito. I looked to the young man I had not recognised; he must have been sent to request for help.

"I have heard enough," said my father, holding up his hand. Everyone fell into silence. "If we try to destroy our internal enemies now, Kyoto will be torn apart."

Several of the men sitting smiled, though those who disagreed remained stoic.

"However, if we take our time on this issue, Kyoto will no longer be ours."

The ones who had been smiling turned stoic, and those who had been stoic tried to remain so.

"Shizuru shall lead the mission."

I continued sipping my tea calmly.

I had not heard of these things until today, I did not say.

* * *

The shoji slid open, and Natsuki entered, carrying a new candle. She immediately noticed the scrap of charred paper I held, though it soon turned to smoke.

"What-"

I placed my finger on my lips, and slid a piece of paper across the table.

'What is happening?' she wrote.

I wondered whether to tell her. I had been told to hide the truth. It had nothing to do with her. It was not her place. There was nothing good that could have come from telling her.

I started writing. It felt right.

I passed the paper to her, with paragraph after paragraph of explanation written. She squinted at the paper, turned it upside down, then squinted again. I chuckled, realising my mistake, and took the paper back.

'Meet me at midnight at the dojo.'

This time, she nodded.

* * *

In the morning, we sat as a family for the first time in a long time, though the young man from the meeting was there as well.

"Saito Gensuke," introduced my father. "He is the Saito son that I have been talking about, before all this happened."

The young man bowed slightly.

"It seems that war will not stop fate," said my father, laughing half-heartedly.

"Your father has told me much about your skill."

I smiled slightly. "Please, I do not deserve the praise."

* * *

When we had finished breakfast, my father asked me to walk with him to the garden. I followed him, leaving my mother and my suitor to make polite talk.

We walked in silence, until the house was some distance away. With his back turned to the house, he reached into the sleeve of his kimono.

He pulled out a dagger with a leather strap.

"I had hidden my intentions from the others. I had planned to slowly…"

He shook his head and sighed, then handed the dagger to me.

"Wear this even to sleep."

He watched with an eagle's eye as I strapped the dagger underneath my sleeve.

* * *

There were sixty men in the building, each the leader of ten men. The captain of the company stood before them.

"Our lord has, in his wisdom, chosen his daughter lead us," announced the captain. "Are there any objections?

One of the sixty stepped forward, as I had arranged.

"How can we trust that you strong enough to lead us?"

"I appreciate your concern for my father's cause. I assure you that I am fully capable."

I drew my sword.

"I will prove my mettle through combat, if I must."

I had lifted that line from an old novel. I hoped no one noticed.

"We should let the strongest of us fight," said the soldier, stepping aside.

The captain nodded. "Who among you is willing to test our lord's daughter?"

A middle-built man stepped forward, brandishing his sword. The other fifty-nine watched with anticipation.

We bowed, his bow deeper than mine. He drew his sword, and we watched each other for an opening. I waited a while, then let my sword drop a little. He leapt.

I raised my sword to my right to parry, but he stepped to my left. I twisted to avoid the stab, and stabbed in return. He pulled back, deflecting my blade with his, and lunged again.

We continued this back and forth until he made a wide swing. I dodged below the swing, and stabbed upwards towards his chest, stopping when I had drawn a sliver of his blood.

The building broke out in cheers. The captain had to silence his men; this was still a secret mission.

The soldiers dispersed after I announced the plan. We would wait one more night for them to gather the remaining men.

* * *

The shoji slid open. I turned, anticipating Natsuki, but found my father standing in my room instead. He shut the shoji behind him.

"The men seem to like you," he said, with a tired smile. "I think you are a natural."

I smiled back. His posture slackened, then stiffened again.

"There is something else I must speak to you about."

My arm twitched reflexively. I had not heard line that since I had been a child. I had not wanted to; it never meant anything good.

"You should stop being friendly with the servant."

I stifled a gulp, ignoring the uncomfortable tension in my throat.

My mind leapt to the thought of Natsuki standing in my room, her kimono draped over her bare body. I tried to think other thoughts, but it was stuck. I was now thinking of Natsuki, naked, while my father stood in front of me, stern-faced.

"The way of the sword is the path of order. She is not yet ready to train under the sword."

The uncomfortable tension lessened, though I tried to hide it. The thought of her still lingered, however. It was difficult to stop myself from gaping, or smiling goofily.

"We each have our own place. It is not your place to be swayed by a servant."

I nodded solemnly.

* * *

The next day, I did not meet Natsuki once. My father had rearranged her schedule, I realised.

I supposed it was for the better.

_You don't think so_, it said.

I ignored it.

* * *

I passed the time reading in my room. Outside, in the dining room, a squad of soldiers bantered nosily. When the night finally fell, we left the estate. Two men carried lanterns with their swords; the others, two swords, one long and one short.

We would search the neighbourhood near the estate. There were many here who had ties to the last shogun. There were many more who had ties to my uncle. There were also those, who, while claiming to stand firmly on my father's side, would turn against him the moment he left.

The soldiers broke down the doors of everyone who were not explicitly our allies.

My father's orders were clear: eliminate those who had been planning the coup, and intimidate everyone else.

I watched as the soldiers combed through the houses, throwing aside and smashing anything in their way. Those who had thought they were in my father's favour watched me, in turn, with a mix of fear and anger.

It was disorientating.

"Found one!" someone shouted. I heard swords hacking into flesh as I turned towards our 'hosts'. The head of the family drew his sword, and I raised my own.

My sword bathed in blood for the first time. Bile built up in my throat.

I had not been trained for this.

"_No, you were born for it."_

* * *

The door bolt broke with a strong kick by one of the soldiers. I waved two men to scout the house.

"There is no one," one of them shouted.

I waved the others to follow them, leaving two men outside as guards. We split into two groups, and I watched as the soldiers with me started scouring the rooms.

It was then that I saw the light suddenly lowering, and heard a loud thud.

I turned to the source of the sound, then turned again when I sensed movement beside me. At this time, the light went out. My sword clashed with the attacker's sword. I barely managed to throw him off, before another sword cut into my side.

I tried to strike at him, but I hit the air. Someone else slashed my arm.

Going by the grunts of the others, they were not faring well either.

"_You were born for this."_

I parried another strike, but was struck in the back.

"_Remember yourself."_

The cuts in my arms and back tingled as they healed.

It was as if a fog had lifted, both in my mind and before my sight. I could see with clarity every contour, every obscure trinket, every speck of dust, rendered in ethereal grey. In this grey space, the coloured shapes stood out. Three of them were next to me.

I cut one down with ease. I parried another strike, shifting the sword to my left hand as I did. With my right hand, I held the second's neck until it snapped. The third man tried to stab my back. His blade stopped at my skin. My sword tore through his chest.

One of my men fell on the floor, his colour fading. The shapes that had faced him turned towards me, four in total.

I soon moved on to the remainder.

* * *

"Try to stop his bleeding, and stay here," I ordered, handing the soldier his bleeding friend. "I need to save the others."

"I can-" he insisted, as he limped towards me.

"It is an order."

* * *

I took out the shapes that stood in front of the house. The two men I had posted there lay grey on the ground. The scene was not much better on the back inside, on the other side of the house.

One man stood at a corner, desperately fighting off the shapes that surrounded him, three in total.

Five more simply stood by and hooted.

They were the first to fall.

* * *

I set my eyes on the final shape, which sat at the back of the house, wearing a familiar smell.

"Move the bodies outside," I said to the standing soldier, as I started towards the shape.

"Yes, Shizuru-sama!" he shouted, in a strange tone.

A grey shape hung on his outstretched arms.

* * *

"Uncle."

A lantern sat beside the man, illuminating his thinness. He had lost much strength since I had last met him.

"I thought father had rid himself of you."

"He is weak, as always. Never doing what is necessary," he said, smiling at me. "It seems I have been about you right all along. My brother never listens, of course. Not ever since we were children. He was always the favourite, he could never be wrong!"

He rambled on about his childhood, about the things he had done with my father, the things my father had done to him, and how unfair it all was.

Then he leapt, drawing a sword from his hip. He was painfully slow. I parried, and his sword was sent skittering along the floor. He smiled at me with a most disturbing smile, before he staggered towards his sword.

"My brother wants to forget me," he said, as he picked up his sword. He turned towards me.

"My brother wants to pretend there is nothing wrong."

He raised the sword slightly, and turned it inward. His skin flared red.

"I will not be forgotten."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N:

I tried using little dashes to separate the scenes, but then the dashes disappeared. Sorry for the mess-up :(

Seira is an amalgamation of several historical characters. This fic is not historically accurate, though I try to match the atmosphere of the time period.

* * *

Chapter 5

_Nausea_

* * *

We were sitting in the dojo, in the dark of night, with a candle at our feet.

"My uncle had been planning a coup."

"Why…?"

"_She is a demon!" _he shouted in my mind.

"I do not know," I said, shaking my head.

"_She will be the downfall of our family!"_

"I do not know for how long he had planned, but when an arson burnt down his house, he thought my father had acted against him."

I thought to the empty futon, then to the roaring flames. I thought to its warmth, its magnificence, as I basked in its might, in my might.

A thrill ran through me.

Then I looked at her, at her smoldering anger.

Did she see through me?

_Yes._

"The other problem is that one of my father's allies has turned against him," I choked out.

"_We must eliminate the threat at home before our march," _my father had said. I had to eliminate the threat at home, he had meant.

I, who had never hurt an animal in my life.

_Liar._

"That is all," I told Natsuki.

* * *

It is the price of power, I told myself. It was my duty to my father.

_It was what you wanted,_ it said, as I stood above the corpses, seeing the world as only I could see. The excitement that had been slowly waning surged again, though the bile still tasted bitter on my tongue.

I set my eyes on the final shape.

* * *

"Cheers to the hero of the hour!"

The men raised their cups and cheered for the umpteenth time. I raised my cup with them and smiled politely, though I did not cheer.

"Cheers to the house of Fujino!"

I raised my cup again, and as I raised the cup, I imagined blood sliding down my sword, sliding down my arm, dripping messily from my elbow. I sipped at the tea politely, tempting my parched throat, then set it hurriedly on the table.

"Cheers to the shogun's daughter!"

"Her skill must have been inherited!"

My father downplayed the compliment, and returned the compliment. When he found a break in the banter, he turned to me.

"You did well," my father whispered.

But I was distracted by the man seated beside him. His eyes were wide open, and his mouth gaped with shock. A drop of blood dotted his chin. Further down, blood was splattered across his silk kimono.

"_Spare me," _he had said as he fell.

"Shizuru?"

The man had disappeared, replaced by my father's advisor. I turned back to my father and smiled slightly.

"I am embarrassed by the attention."

My father smiled back at me.

"You'll become used to it."

* * *

"There must be more."

Natsuki would not spare me easily, it seemed.

"Who is this ally that had betrayed your father?"

If I said no, would she have been able to stop me?

"His name is Sanahada Seira," I said tiredly. I noticed the flash of disappointment. "He had been a vassal of one of the daimyos. My father had helped him to power."

"Then, that is deserved."

"No," I insisted, too quickly. "The previous daimyo was…"

The thought died on my tongue.

I had nothing to say.

"...worse," I finished lamely.

She looked at me wordlessly.

* * *

The men bantered loudly as the servants brought out the food. Natsuki was among them, carrying a bowl of steamed trout. She served the guests with utmost formality, so much that she seemed almost a different person. That, and her beauty, seemed to form a halo around her, separating her from the banality and the noise of the feast.

If I had ignored the slightest hint of hostility in her eyes, she might have seemed to me a goddess amongst men.

I turned away as she approached my side of the table, but I only half-listened to the conversation there. My attention was turned towards her, to her husky, yet soothing tones as she addressed my father.

My heartbeat rose, even as a scene of carnage repeated itself in my mind. I had almost lost myself in the scene when I saw a flash of blackish red from beside me. I looked to Natsuki, but her expression did not betray her emotion.

I squeezed my tea cup as more colours flooded my sight. Bright red overlaid the bodies, flickering to and from existence as I strained to hold them back. Blue swirled within the red; they were afraid, I realised, but of who?

At this time all heads turned to me. I felt the world slow. Someone said something, though it sounded slurred to my ears. The room was spinning, and the swirling screen of colours worsened my headache. I smiled politely at someone, anyone, it did not matter.

Amidst the sea of red and blue were spots of green, and the green clung to my consciousness, growling larger in my mind, clawing at my memory.

"Shizuru-sama?"

Natsuki was standing beside me, looking slightly confused. Her spirit stood out from the others; there was only red, though a darker red swirled within her. My head throbbed, and for a moment I could not think, let alone speak. Even then, my heart throbbed faster, much faster, so that it pierced my mind and for a brief moment dominated my senses.

"A small slice is enough, thank you."

She scooped a slice of fish into a small bowl, and moved on to the next guest.

_"I will help you," _I had muttered.

I meant nothing to her.

* * *

"Where were you born?" I asked suddenly.

I knew she would not answer but asked anyway. It was better than having my words stolen from me.

"What does that matter?" she shot back.

"It is only fair."

If she pushed me, I would have stopped. Whatever she asked, I would have answered. Why..."

She grimaced, her sight set on the floor.

"…On the outskirts of Kyoto," she finally said.

"I see."

A short silence lapsed.

"Do you have a grudge against my father?"

Another silence lapsed as she looked at me, evaluating me with those merciless eyes.

"…I do not know."

I smiled slightly.

"We are similar, then."

* * *

I had been in a black room. There had been something in the shadows, something that sung a song so sweet to me, calling me to it.

What had happened next?

I shoveled the rice into my mouth as politely as possible, despite the spinning room, the throbbing headache, despite the assault on my senses by smells and sounds, and despite the faint sense that each time I stabbed at the rice, I stabbed at something more human.

I had been following my father when he met with the daimyo in the north. What was his name again? I mentally shook my head. It did not matter.

I remembered an apple orchard, and staring out at it from atop a cliff.

What had happened next?

My mind protested at its strain. I felt myself slouch, and for a moment I let myself rest, before forcing myself straight.

I listened mindlessly to the banter, soaking in the sound, separated from them by a barrier I could not see nor touch.

It was a familiar feeling.

* * *

I had been staring at a sword that sat on an aged stand.

"…family heirloom…"

The daimyo carefully removed the sword from the stand and unsheathed it. The blade was a beautiful pure black, though the cutting edge was lined in a lighter, silvery grey.

I remembered sneaking into the main hall at midnight to look at the sword, drawn in by its song.

"It is magnificent, is it not?"

I had startled, and turned. I saw the daimyo's vassal smiling widely at me.

"Too bad that it is treated as a toy."

His spirit was a vile green.

When he turned to the sword, his spirit turned even viler.

"...you understand...?"

I stared at him. He chuckled.

"...I'll teach you."

He placed his hand on my head and looked me in the eye.

"Power is yours to be seized."

He patted my head, then turned to leave.

"If you ever feel alone, remember that."

* * *

I lay in the futon, eyes open, seeing my room as I used to see, slowly remembering the things I used to remember.

I had wanted to forget, and so I had forgotten.

Now that I remembered, I did not want to forget.

It was a warm feeling, remembering how I had held a life between my small hands, or how they had fled from a child. I remembered watching my reflection in the water. I remembered two red eyes staring back at me.

_I was different from them_, I had thought, as I stared enraptured at my own eyes.

_"Cheers to the hero of the hour!"_

There was nothing wrong with who that.

There wasn't.

* * *

I had half-drifted off to sleep when the shoji slid open and Natsuki stepped in.

"The army will march soon," she said, in her usual tone.

"Yes."

I continued lying down. I was too tired to stand, and I already anticipated what she would say. My eyes were half-closed, and slowly closing more and more.

"I want to march with the army."

"…Why?"

I suspected, of course, but though I was half-gone, I was still compelled to delay the inevitable.

"That man will be there."

"Who?"

There was only silence.

"You will die." I would have to watch her die.

"It is my only chance," she insisted.

"No…" I mumbled weakly. I had already lost.

"You said you would help me."

It was not my decision to make.

"…It is safest to be a bodyguard," I suggested. "I will find a way."

Somehow.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N:

At long last! I have been busy with tests and such, and I probably will be for a while, so don't expect updates soon :P

Regarding the confusing nature of the last chapter, it is mostly intentional. That is Shizuru's state of mind, after all, and you are reading from her POV. I'll probably run back and edit it to be a bit clearer though, since some of it can probably be improved with better writing.

**Important: **I changed Gennosuke's name to Reito. Yes, Reito from Mai-Hime. I had some difficulties with this characters name from the start. I imagined him to be of a similar personality to Reito, though more developed. But naming him Reito would suggest that he would turn evil. So now, I assure you: he is not evil. It also makes his family name easier to remember, which in case you forgot, was Kanzaki. As in Reito Kanzaki. So the Fujinos' allies would be the Kanzakis, not the Saitos (which, by the way, was an actual clan during that period).

Yes, I realise tweaking names is confusing, so I've tried to stay away from it (though you might have noticed a certain minor character's name being tweaked). I promise to plan the names out more so that ten people don't end up with names starting with the same syllable, though I don't promise not to tweak the names of minor characters that appeared before this chapter (I'm still not really happy with the way some of their names sound :X).

.

.

.

Chapter 6

Ambush

.

.

.

Rain beat down on the line of soldiers before me, and an oppressive silence reigned as each man wallowed in his own misery. Beside me, a soldier dropped from the effort, only to be ordered to his feet. Before me, Reito's horse had stalled, as it heaved with all its might to free itself from the deep mud.

"What a bad day for a parade, huh?" he said to me. I barely heard him over the roar of the rain.

"It is a bad day for anything."

He hummed. "It might be a good day for nabe."

"I suppose it might."

His horse finally freed itself from the mud, and we ordered the horses to continue marching. The silence reigned again.

.

.

.

"Are we fighting for the right side?"

His words had been whispered, so soft that words would have been drowned by the rain to all but me. Did he intent for me to hear it, or was he in the midst of some delusion? I could choose to reply, and salve my curiosity. Or I could ignore his words, and save myself the trouble.

I said nothing as I pondered the thought.

The silence soon drowned out my curiosity.

.

.

.

The small man was thrown to the floor, his hands in chains, towered by the guards beside him. All the commanders and vassals turned to him, as he looked up, his spirit a whirlpool of blue. I could hear his frantic heartbeat from where I stood.

"What is the matter?" my father said, shouting over the murmurs.

"He was found sneaking into the camps."

"I was not, my lord!"

The man was pushed to the floor.

My father narrowed his eyes. "Release him."

The man stood up, but was pushed back down to his knees.

"Why are you here?" my father asked, his tone neutral. The man eyed the guards nervously, his heartbeat running ever faster.

"…Our village has been plagued by bandits, and each year they leave us with not enough to eat. Our children have been starving-"

My father held up his hand to silence the man. He motioned his aide to bring out a map.

"Tell us more about the bandits."

The man's expression turned to joy, though his spirit was still churned blue. "You are truly noble, my lord! Let me-"

My father silenced the man again, and the man finally talked about the important details of his situation. There were many murmurs in the tent as the man talked, that there was not time, that it was too risky to march in an uncharted area. My father listened to the man in silence, as though he had not heard the murmurs.

When he raised his hand again, all talk stopped, and the man was escorted from the tent. He turned to his most trusted advisor.

"Narahashi, what is your opinion?"

The battle-worn man stood out from the row of advisors, bowing as he looked into my father's eyes. His spirit burnt a bright green, and the scars that covered his face only made him look more sinister.

"There is no doubt that we have little time, with that fly in our friend's territories," he said, nodding slightly to Reito, "but what would our people think of us, that we may not defeat a small band of bandits? Would they think our lord is weak, or that our lord is cruel, to leave them to their fates?"

_"He is weak, as always. He never does what is necessary,"_ my uncle had said with a twisted smile. The thought of him made me disgusted. Was it how he had treated me, or was it his death that disgusted me? 

I stopped the thought. It did not matter, not now.

"-Indeed, the fly has falsely claimed that our lord is uncaring, and that he alone cares for the people! We should not play into his hands! It would take us less than a day to wipe the bandits from the face of this earth! The troops will cheer! The people will cheer! There is no loss possible!"

But was it true, what my uncle had said? I remembered the nightmare I had set upon him. I remembered how my father had stood over him, sword in hand-

"Then, it is decided. We shall destroy the bandits that plague these lands."

What did I want to believe?

.

.

.

The dagger weighed down my hand as I read. The more aware I was of its weight, the heavier it felt. I tried to refocus on the book, an old treatise on tactics, but the weight remained.

.

.

.

"-should not have chosen his daughter to lead the mission," complained a commander, his words cutting through the noise of the camp, catching my attention as I read.

"She is still unskilled," said another commander. He had been assigned as my advisor for this mission, though I strained to remember his name.

"That too, but she is only a lady."

"I suppose it should not be too terrible, with Dai as support," said a third commander.

"The mission is troublesome to begin with," sighed Dai. "It would take too long to find, let alone capture, several bandits in the middle of a forest."

I could listen for the bandits, I realised. I could find them in an instant. I was the only one who could. The thought made my heart beat a little faster. I was the only one who could-

If I failed-

"That is true. Even if we failed, it would be too embarrassing to stop the search."

"We would be stuck in the middle of a forest for who knows how long."

I was a demon, I reminded myself. I would not fail against a few humans.

I would not fail, I told myself, as my heart beat faster still.

.

.

.

I recited poems in my mind as I waited for the night to fall. They were poems of love and life; ironic for my situation, but they soothed me, so I recited them. When my bodyguards' breathing had slowed and they were starting to drift into half-sleep, I escaped from my tent.

Then I moved slowly from tent to tent, avoiding the net of patrols near the command tent. Once I was clear of the area, it was much easier. There were almost no patrols, and those that were around were easy to avoid.

I felt a strange feeling I walked past the tents, towering over the prone and sleeping men, their every movement obvious to me.

I felt as if I was a wolf, walking amidst its prey.

.

.

.

"Natsuki," I said, in a more nervous tone than I had intended.

"Natsuki," I said, consciously toning down the nervousness.

I shook her shoulder slightly, though she did not budge. I shook her slightly harder, but she swatted my hand away. I entertained the thought of shaking her harder, but I thought the better of it.

_You could enter her mind._

I bit my lip. The dim moonlight illuminated her so slightly, enough to hint at her perfection. I looked around, as though I could see, as though there was anyone who could see me, as though there was anyone who could stop me.

_You want to see her past. You want to be her hero._

My hand hovered over her, then touched her, ever so softly. I leaned in, considering if I should touch her on her lips. My mind wandered to that day, when I had last been so close to her; it seemed I had not learnt my lesson.

_Or, you could…_

.

.

.

"Shizuru…?" Natsuki said blearily, as she looked up at me.

"You should not sleep in the dirt," I said, as I patted the futon I was sitting on. I had, hesitatingly, taken it from a cloth merchant's cart as I waited for her to wake. She stared in the direction of the futon, then at me, though I doubted she could see either.

"I brought you a blanket as well. It is not much, but it is the most I can carry."

I wondered if she wondered why this was the best I could do.

"In a few days, my father will be able reorganise the bodyguards," I lied, my throat drying. "It takes time; he has to do it without others becoming suspicious."

She nodded.

Did she notice my lie? Was she only nodding to assuage me?

"I will return tomorrow with fresher food," I said, trying my best to steady my voice. "Please, stay away from other people. It is too dangerous for someone who is alone."

"You've told me," she said, sounding slightly irritated. I winced.

.

.

.

The villagers greeted us with great cheer along the small muddy path to the village, or at least much cheer as a couple hundred people could muster. The rest of the villagers were busy storm-proofing their huts, the village chief told us.

His tone and expression was friendly, but there was a small, suppressed blue in his spirit. I looked to the other villagers, who mostly seemed delighted. There was something wrong with the chief, but what?

I looked to Dai, but he seemed undisturbed. I continued watching the villagers cheer, torn between telling and not telling the commander. He could help me, but would I have failed as leader? How would I even explain why I found the chief suspicious?

I settled on observing the village chief unobtrusively once in a while.

.

.

.

"The first few miles of the forest seem to be clear. There are no recent tracks, but the rains might have washed them away."

I nodded.

"If it were up to you, where would you locate your camp?"

Dai answered immediately. His aura burned bright red. It seemed that, despite his misgivings about the mission, he was quite sure of himself. Or, was he merely masking his misgivings with bravado?

"I would abandon any camp I had, and move as far away from the army as possible."

"How far would you move?"

"No further than the northern borders of this territory. The chaos from the flood of refugees would help cover my movements, and but any further, I would risk being trapped between two armies. I would probably doubt that the army would chase me, however. So, I would try to stay in more familiar territory."

"I see. Thank you, Dai. You are dismissed."

With that, he bowed and left. I almost sighed. I had already searched most of the forest. Were there simply hiding at the edge, just far enough to avoid my senses? Had they fled further? I was beginning to suspect that there had there been no bandits in the first place. The village chief seemed too suspicious. But then why would the villagers celebrate?

The only thing I could do was continue searching, and somehow, that disturbed me.

.

.

.

"This is…?" asked Natsuki, as she took the sword.

"It is for your safety. There is something wrong with the situation in the village. It should not reach you, but…"

She nodded. I held out my other hand, which held a pouch of strong-smelling herbs. She returned me the pouch I had passed to her yesterday.

"Shizuru."

"Yes?"

"Don't die."

I smiled.

"I promise."

"Shizuru!"

"Yes?"

She pointed in the direction of the camp. There seemed to be an orange light, and… smoke?

My eyes widened, and the colours returned to my sight.

"Natsuki, stay here!"

She looked at her sword, then at me. Seeing that expression, that fiery red spirit, I regretted handing her that sword.

"I'll go with you!"

"It is too dangerous!" I blurted out. I regretted those words too.

"You father doubts me, doesn't he? Or someone else? It doesn't matter; the only way is to prove myself by fighting!"

There was nothing I could say.

I could protect her, couldn't I?

It would solve the problem of helping her to my side - if she became a hero, it was not likely that my father would outright reject her presence.

But I would be defying my father.

I couldn't do that, could I?

"…Follow me," I barely spat out.

.

.

.


End file.
